1000 Paper Cranes
by xooxu
Summary: 1000 little moments in Hanna and ... 's life.
1. 1 Now It Means Something

1.

I watched as Hanna – surprisingly quick in the blue light of his window – folded the small slip of white paper.

"There. Number one of one thousand."

The little white crane fluttered to my side.

"Now it means something."


	2. 2

2.

I turned the page in my book, which was turning out to be amazingly dissatisfying, just as I heard a pause in Hanna's munching.

"You know ..."

I looked over at him, mid-spoonful, hand frozen halfway between the bowl and his mouth. "We still only have one paper crane."

I didn't say anything as I put my book, up-side-down to mark my place, on the arm of the chair. I felt Hanna's eyes on me as I reached down and picked up a paper from off the ground. My fingers flew through the movements of their own accord, and I surprisingly placed a neat, white crane down on top of the book.

"Now we have two."


	3. 3

3.

It was about nine when I got home with tomorrow's groceries. The door was broken, and i actually had to kick it before it opened.

Hanna was asleep at the table. In front of him was a new crane.

I set down the bag, picked up the boy and paper, and placed both down on the bed.


	4. 4 Pierce

4.

"Cleaning day, Peirce!" Hanna chirped happily as he entered the kitchen in little but his boxers and t-shirt. I sent him a side-long glance, before returning to the pancakes before me.

"How often do you clean?"

"Hmm ... not very often? I think the last time I actually used a sponge was ... oh, I forget."

I slid the pancake, now a golden brown, onto one of his least chipped plates, before smothering it in syrup (like he liked it) and began looking for a fork.

By the time I slid the plate in front of him, he held out a new crane, this time a purple one. "We should start naming them. Like, you know, to mark the names we've given you?" he said as he pulled out his black sharpie and began to write _Peirce _on the wing.

The smile that followed was inevitable.

So was Hanna's exclamation.

So were the next five hours of broom battles and poorly sung Queen songs.


	5. 5 Spock

5.

"Whoo!" Hanna exclaimed as he fell back into his chair and admired the (very) slightly cleaner apartment. "I'd say that was a job well done, Spock!"

"Definitely."

Hanna eyed me suspiciously, "Was that sarcasm?"

"No."

"Ah."

There was a beat of silence that fell between us as I sat down on the floor near my pile of library books, and neither of us moved.

The piece of paper on the ground was just there.

Hanna was the one who wrote _Spock _on the wing.


	6. 6 cheese puffs?

6.

"No, no, thank you! Business has been slow, so this is ... Yes, of course. Be there in an hour."

I looked up from my book as Hanna hung up the phone.

"Alright, Lionel. We've got a lady who says her husband's car was possessed."

I nod, immediately dropping the book and standing smoothly. Hanna whistled at the action, then winked playfully. He turned back to his laptop, and clumsily mashed a few buttons. "I've never heard of a _car_ being possessed before. I'm looking up the possibilities, if it's even possible."

I moved behind his chair, glancing over at the screen. He was on a forum I doubt most of the world had even heard of, and about half the thread wasn't English.

"Swedish?"

Hanna looked back at me, surprised. "Yeah. And some German."

"Do you speak it?"

"Conversational. And enough to get by with mystics."

"Hmm."

I waited for him to find something of value, but as minutes passed by, and more and more of what he clicked on was illegible to me, I instead focused my attention on the stack of papers next to the computer.

I picked up the first one. It was a receipt for two packs of sharpies, a clock, and some cheese puffs.

I nearly smiled at such a strange collection.

In a few fluid movements, I held in my hand a new white crane. I grabbed a marker from off the table, and wrote, not _Lionel_, but instead _cheese puffs?_

Hanna laughed beside me.


	7. 7

7.

Hanna was laughing as we walked back to our apartment. We had been celebrating the victory of a successful job, and Hanna, with some help from a (few) rum and coke, was feeling elated.

He started singing a song I'd never heard, and twice I had to keep him from walking into the street.

Eventually, he stopped singing, and a low melodious hum replaced it. He pulled a paper from his pocket. Still humming, he folded it: slow and crooked from the alcohol, but slowly a slightly misshaped crane was form. When he was done, Hanna stopped walking altogether, instead turning to me, bowing and presenting the deformed crane with a drunken flourish.

I accepted, turned him forward, and kept walking.


	8. 8 The Shelf by the Front Door

8.

"Maybe we should start keeping track of these things?"

Hanna held up a crane that had been sitting on the table. It read_ Spock_. "What do you think, Adrian? How many do we even have?"

"Seven."

"Hmmm. What if we kept them all on that shelf? The one by the door?"

The next half hour was spent scourging Hanna small apartment for seven small paper cranes.

Hanna took a step back from the shelf as I put the last one in place, as if he were assessing a piece of art.

"It looks kinda uneven with just seven, Harold."

He looked fleetingly around for an acceptable sheet of paper and, within seconds, a new crane with the word _Harold_ scrawled on his wing was placed along side his seven brothers.


	9. 9 Alejandro

9.

The park was quiet and dark. I had mentioned that it was pretty late to go to a park.

I was slightly glad he hadn't listen.

He was talking about Conrad and Worth and Veser and that British guy from the bar, and did I think we'll get any new leads? I answered at all the appropriate times, but slowly Hanna's voice died out.

We were sitting on a park bench under a lone street light, and the crickets were chirping. One landed on my leg, but it didn't bother me at all. A sheet of paper blew by, and Hanna chased after it.

He returned with a small crane, made out of a advertisement for yoga classes, named Alejandro.


	10. 10 Fredrick

10.

Hanna yawned as he stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his wet messy hair.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed."

I looked away from him and back to my book, lit by my orange glow. "Okay. Good night, Hanna."

"Night Fredrick." I pretty much heard his wide smile.

He was snoring within ten minutes. Within eleven, I was writing _Fredrick _on the wing of a new crane.


	11. 11 thank you I

11.

Dinner that night was simple, but one of Hanna's favorites. Spaghetti. He even helped out with the sauce, and maybe we went a little overboard.

I looked around at the meal. There was enough for five people to have seconds.

While Hanna was fixing his plate, talking about left overs, I made the calls in the next room.

Hanna was already half-way through his first bowl when Doc Worth showed up. Hanna is obviously surprised and he gave me a _Did you do this?_ look, and I simply smiled.

Conrad was the next to show up, and even though he couldn't eat the spaghetti, Worth handed him a blood bag. Veser and Toni showed up together, and that set Hanna off. Toni nearly slapped Hanna at the accusation. Lamont brought some alcohol, and even Conrad tried some, laughing and coughing as he remembered himself.

The night lasted until 11, when Toni said something about practice tomorrow, and then Conrad remembered he's got a commission due, and eventually Lamont had to call a cab, and everyone was gone.

Hanna didn't say anything, but gave me a huge grin. After he got in the shower, I found a new crane on top of my pile of books that read _thank you_.


	12. 12

12.

We didn't normally go out, due to my undead status, and when we did, it was typically at night. But Hanna had wanted to read this comic that had just come out, and he promised it would be okay.

So that's why I was getting weird stares at Borders that Hanna was oblivious to. He was completely immersed in his comic, and I was lightly reading a short story collection by Bret Easton Ellis at the recommendation of the salesperson working the floor.

Eventually, Hanna noticed a thirty-something year old woman in a tight bun repeatedly looking at my stitches.

He put down the book and said loudly, "Hey Greggy, isn't amazing how _rude_ some people can be?"

The woman quickly averted her attention, and someone else in the cafe laughed lightly. I gave him a _you didn't have to do that_ look, which he countered with a _but I wanted to_ look of his own.

I took the napkin that he had grabbed when he first got his blueberry muffin, and quickly folded a crane. It was a little floppy because of the weak material.

But Hanna accepted it anyway.


	13. 13

13.

The rain spattered against Hanna's small window, and the redhead released a small, somber sigh.

The paper was an overdue bill we can't pay.

They would bill us again, anyway. Or, at least, that's what Hanna said as he put the thirteenth crane on the shelf.


	14. 14 Will Smith

14.

Conrad's apartment showed no signs of his vampirism, aside from his new blackout curtains. And, I suppose, his empty fridge.

The movie that both Hanna and Conrad finally decided on was called I Am Legend.

After the movie was over, Hanna was near tear and kept calling me Robert, which is the main character's name. I found this ... endearing?

Hanna asked Conrad if he's got any paper, and of course he did. I couldn't help but notice the stark difference between Conrad's organization and Hanna's disarray.

Hanna flew through the movements, and even I was a little surprised at how quickly he produced a crane. Conrad voiced this.

"Weeeell, we've been making them a lot this past couple of weeks. And you know," he said as he uncaped his sharpie and scribbled on the wing, "practice makes perfect."

He handed me the new crane with _Will Smith_ written on it.

I was more than slightly confused.


	15. 15 Conrad I

15.

"Like this?" Conrad asked, finally holding up a crane.

Several half done and incorrect attempts littered his table.

Hanna looked up from his, which was two folds away from being complete. "Yeah."


	16. 16

16.

"Like that." Hanna says, holding up his own.


	17. 17

17.

I place mine next to Hanna's well formed one and Conrad's acceptable first attempt.


	18. 18

18.

I had told Hanna that it takes a lot to make me bored. I hadn't been lying. I usually could find something to keep me entertained. Usually, it was books I had rented from the library, or maybe a walk to the library, or maybe a walk to somewhere unnamed.

Usually.

I don't know why, but none of those options sounded appealing. So instead, I found myself doing miscellaneous tasks through out Hanna's apartment. By three am, every dish was clean, all of the floors shined, the windows were clear, and all of the stray papers that had been on the floor were now neatly piled on the table for Hanna to look through, though I was able to throw some of it away. So now I sat in the chair staring at a clean apartment and a pile of papers in the dark.

The crane really was begging to be made.


	19. 19 thank you II

19.

"Jesus, Jesus!" The later was pronounced _hā·zūs_. "It's … clean!"

Hanna was still in the boxers and t-shirt he wore to bed as I made him omelets for breakfast. I looked back at him as he poked the counter, as if its shininess was tangible.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"No, it's just … I don't think I've seriously _ever_ seen it this clean before. It's been messy since before I moved in."

I looked down at the sizzling egg in the pan, watching the grease pop. "I'm sorry. I probably should have asked before rearranging your apartment."

"What? No! I mean, it's amazing! Like, better than anything I've ever been able – wait, _my_ apartment?"

He leaned across the counter and moved into my peripheral vision, catching my eye.

I didn't say anything.

"Morocco, you've been living with here, like, a month now? You've used the oven more times than I did in three years, and the stove just as much. You've cleaned," he said, making a wide gesture to the kitchen and apartment in general, "more than I have, too. You live here."

I couldn't say anything.

I scraped a slightly burnt omelet on to a plate and handed it to him before leaving the kitchen.

"Dominique?"

I returned with a piece of paper and a sharpie. My folds were slow and careful, and my writing was scrawled and messy.

_Thank you_ it said for me.


	20. 20 Doc Worth I

20.

"'Eh, brat? Yer apar'ment ever been this clean befer?" Doc Worth asked, gaze scrutinizing the uncluttered floors and transparent windows.

"Nope! You can thank Ernie, here!"

"Ernie?" I asked.

"Ernie?" Worth parroted, still focused on the cleanliness of the room. His eyes fell on the shelf by the door, now crowded by nineteen paper cranes of various sizes and colors. "Wots this, then?"

Hanna's bright smile and shining face was somewhat of a warning. I'd like to imagine that is how a doting parent would sound, as if these small little folded pieces of paper where like his children.

"Do you want to make one? Conrad already did!" Hanna said, pulling a messy crane with _Hugh_ written on the wing in Conrad's (slightly effeminate) handwriting from the shelf.

Worth stared at the offending paper as his mid finally registered that _Hanna stopped talking_. "N'why would tellin' me tha' Confag's doin' it make me wanna do it, too?"

It was never a fair fight: Hanna's sad eyes versus Worth's sarcasm? But I kept that to myself.

Worth left soon after making the crane, saying that Lamont was dropping by tonight, and he would have to be there for that. He flipped the crane in my general direction. It read _G. Rection_ in a sinister scrawl.

I put Conrad's and Worth's cranes on opposite sides of the shelf.

* * *

hanna (dot) aftertorque (dot) com/?p=580


	21. 21 Hanna

21.

"Um, I'm going to need to see some ID."

It wasn't the usual bar (we were here to meet a client), so the bartender, a fairly attractive woman in her twenties, gave Hanna a look as he went to order his drink.

Hanna grumpily handed over the license, looking to me for pity, which he got through my blank stare.

"Twenty-four?" she asked incredulously. "Nice try, kid. But I know a fake when I see one … Hanna? Hah, wherever you got this from, they did a horrible job."

I chuckled lowly in my throat, and Hanna glared at me. "Look, lady, my name really is Hanna. And I really am twenty-four."

Every ounce of the bartender seeped _Oh, please_, as she gave him the ultimatum to either leave or she'd call the cops. Every once of Hanna seeped _ARRGH!_ as he dared her to, warning that it would just be a waste of everyone's time.

Twenty minutes later, Hanna was smiling triumphantly at the girl as a police officer apologized sincerely to him.

He didn't even reorder his drink.

"Don't you think that was a little over dramatic?" I asked him, out of earshot of the bartender.

He smiled, "Nope. I had to do that at the Rabbit Hole, too. No one ever believes me about my age or name the first time."

There's a stack of flyers for a pizzeria right in front of us. I fold it for him and write _Hanna_.


	22. 22 Contest I

22.

"Orville, how long has it been since we started with the cranes?" Hanna asked me as I was doing dishes.

"Maybe a month."

"Oh …" floated into the kitchen. My sponge pauses. "I think we should have a crane-making contest."

"A what?"

"You know. See who can make the most cranes in five minutes?"

Hanna took the whole thing seriously, grabbing two piles of preripped paper squares (which made me wonder smally for how long had he been planning this) and a timer and set us down at the still-clean table.

"Ready, go!"

I finished my first one …


	23. 23 Contest II

23.

… about nine seconds before him, and …


	24. 24 Contest III

24.

… my second one by …


	25. 25 Contest IV

25.

… about three seconds.


	26. 26 Contest V

26.

But on the third, he caught up, placing his down …


	27. 27 Contest VI

27.

… four seconds before mine.


	28. 28 Contest VII

28.

Our fourths …


	29. 29 Contest VIII

29.

… were tied.


	30. 30 Contest IX

30.

But Hanna still managed to win, sneaking in his fifth just seconds before the timer dinged.


	31. 31 Contest X

31.

And I was aware of his smug look as I finished mine to the screeching sound of the timer.

"I win!" he said proudly as he pronounced his victory on the paper bird with a humble _Hanna is the best ever!_ in thick Sharpie black.

* * *

Check 1000 Paper Notes for a side story for this chapter.


	32. 32 Edward

32.

Business had been slower than usual (nonexistent), but that had been counteracted by the last job we did about a week ago for a very rich and very young widow being haunted by her dead husband's ghost.

For the fifth night in a row, Hanna couldn't find anything to do. So I suggested a movie at the dollar theater.

Two hours later, Hanna was complaining about every aspect of the movie on our walk home. "And of course, vampires do not _sparkle_! Whoever thought of that was utterly moronic! And even if they did, it wouldn't _sheen_! Jeez!"

However, the crane we made when we got home _did_ say _Edward_.


	33. 33 Ponyboy?

33.

I tried to close the door quietly, knowing Hanna had an early morning at his job tomorrow, but it was Hanna's door.

Hanna flops in his bed, half-awake, with a murmured, "Ponyboy?"

I had no clue if that was referring to me, so I didn't answer. Within a few minutes, I hear light snoring coming from under the sheets.

I made the small white crane silently and place the question _Ponyboy?_ next to his sleeping form.


	34. 34 Peanut Butter Cup

34.

"I _loooooove_ ice cream," Hanna practically moaned.

He was spoon-deep in a small sized tub of rocky-road that Conrad had given him "just 'cuz." I have a feeling that Hanna might be growing on the vampire. The fact that rocky-road is Hanna's favorite flavor only adds to those suspicions.

After he's done – full and satisfied and covered in chocolate smudges – he folds a crane that says _Peanut Butter Cup_, then proceeded to debate one-sidedly that "Peanut Butter Cup" is in fact a name.


	35. 35 Fenris

35.

It was about six in the morning and I was just getting back from my walk. I frowned slightly at the broken number plate that had unhinged again: I would have to fix that later.

I was surprised to see Hanna up. He typically slept in until about eight or nine when he didn't have to show up for work early. He was at the table on his laptop. He wasn't connected legally, of course – legal meant money. Instead, someone else within wireless range unknowingly supported Hanna's internet addiction.

"Hey, Pinocchio," he greeted me. "Couldn't sleep."

"Do you want breakfast now?" I asked, sliding out of my jacket.

"Fshhhof course." He said with a huge playful smile that added _please_. As I passed by to head to the fridge, he tossed a new crane to me, which I caught with ease. It read _Fenris_.

"When did you call me Fenris?"

"I call you different names in my head, too. Not that that will help you to remember you name, I guess. But it's like a force of habit. Just … happens."


	36. 36 A Trevor Like Green

36.

Hanna only really needed three things during a paranormal investigation: sharpies, his hammer, and me. While the hammer and I happened to stick around for a while, Hanna burned through sharpies like a diva through lip-gloss.

We were at Wal-Mart, replenishing our stash of black sharpies, when Hanna spotted it: a package of origami squares in bright neon colors. It even came with instruction on how to make other animals. It was more than you would expect for a package of one hundred eighty piece of paper, but Hanna was dead set.

On the way home, Hanna tried on out, using a irish green square that had a yellowish tint under the street-lamps. My name was _Trevor_, after a frog that had a similar color at some point in Hanna's childhood.


	37. 37

37.

My next crane was pink. It was at the insistence of Hanna. He called me _Oliver_. It sort of all had a connection (something about how pink was feminine, and that reminded him of British – but not in the Worth way, in the Ples way: dainty and immaculate – and that made him remember some book he read as a teenager), but it was a bit over my head.


	38. 38 Toni I

38.

Toni came over to invite us to a concert she was performing in. It was also to maybe double as just-in-case protection, should something else supernatural pop up again, now that Lee's ghost was gone. So the night would be paid for and the event free, so Hanna agreed right away.

"What are those?" She was pointing at the seventeen cranes hanging in the corner. "I mean, I know they're cranes and all, but why do you guys have so many?"

And so, Hanna filled her in on the whole story, even pointed out specific cranes and their stories (she laughed quite hard at Conrad's and Worth's, and Hanna _oh'_d like he just got it) and then showed her proudly the new colored squares.

Of course she then fell in love with the bright electric blue and made one …


	39. 39 Toni II

39.

… two …


	40. 40 Toni III

40.

… three of them before Hanna finally mentioned the time.

"Oh _shit_! I'm late for practice!"

I have a feeling she would have used all ten sheets if she hadn't been running late.


	41. 41 Autumn

41.

Hanna was trying to decide which season he liked best. To do this, he was using the neon origami squares. Each was suppose to relate to a season in someway.

"But red's my favorite color, and that's completely a fall color. But fall is so _sad_, and that's just sad." To represent red, he had a dark shade of pink because none of the fifteen colors were red. There was a littler shade of pink, which was in the spring category. Yellow (which I was told is a highlighter shade of yellow), teal, and lime green also fell under spring, but Irish green was a summer color, along with magenta, navy, and bright purple. Joining red (dark pink) in autumn were two shades of orange (bright and red) and a deep purple. Winter only got electric blue and white. Black was undecided.

I sometimes wondered about the "Hanna is not a boy's name" thing. The evidence is stacking up to support it.

"Does it really matter?" I ask as he tussles between Irish and lime green verbally.

The debate stopped as he glanced up at me surprised. He probably forgot about me. "Well, no. But where's the fun in that, Quinton?"

He stared back down at the colors, silently for a while, before asking me, "Which season do you like best, Norman?"

I think about it for a second. "I don't remember."

There is a definite glare coming my way. "No, I mean, what's your favorite season now. Since you, uh, woke up?"

I look down at the color categories he made, before picking up an orange sheet. "Autumn, it would seem," I say as I fold it into a crane.

* * *

Check 1000 Paper Notes for a side story for this chapter.


	42. 42

42.

"So where did you learn how to cook anyway, Kalipso? Or was that something from … uh, before?"

The phrasing of the second question intrigued me a little. Hanna had never been uncomfortable with my zombieism before. I glanced at him from the stove, where I waited for the meat to brown thoroughly. It was taco night.

Hanna was on his laptop, and appeared to be avoiding eye contact.

"If I knew how to cook before I died, I had to relearn it anyway."

"Oh, so then, where?" Hanna is still fixated on his screen, but his hands are frozen on the keys.

I looked back down at the meat and flipped some of it over with the cheap plastic spatula that Hanna had picked up for me the last time he went to the store. He had noticed that our last one was starting to melt. "Library books, I guess. Practice."

"Hmmm …"

Hanna was quiet then until I was done stuffing his tortilla with everything he liked. When I gave him the plate, he handed me a little white crane.

Almost like in payment.


	43. 43

43.

Hanna was drawing little designs on a piece of paper with a blue sharpie, and I was staring at a bird perched on the street lamp outside the window. It was getting colder now, and something small and a little like pity was forming inside me for the bird.

Hanna folded a crane out of the doodled on paper. His question of if I would help him hang it made me forget all about the bird.


	44. 44 December 3

44.

Hanna said we should buy a tree. Not a big one, maybe just a little one that could sit in the corner.

I thought ahead enough to ask Conrad if he had a spare.

"Oh, yeah, from when I was in college. The dorms were tiny. So when I moved out, I bought a bigger one."

He dropped the four-foot plastic and metal pine off the next night and even helped us set it up before he left. However, decorating it was left to Hanna and me.

I suggested using all the cranes we already had. Hanna agreed to the cranes, but he thought that we should make new ones for it. So we decide to make a new one every day until Christmas for the tree.

Hanna was really festive with the first one, making it out of a white square that he striped himself with red Sharpie.

* * *

Check 1000 Paper Notes for a side story on this chapter.


	45. 45 December 4

45.

Hanna wrote _Ho-Ho-Ho_ in green all over the second one the next day. Something told me he was maybe a little eager.

It might have been the fact that he had just woken up.


	46. 46 December 5

46.

Hanna was a little slower to remember on the third day. He was already dressed when sat down and drew a green triangular tree on a white square and then folded it.


	47. 47 December 6

47.

I hung Hanna's candy-cane crane towards the middle of the tree's front. I stepped back to admire the four colorful cranes hanging from the plastic needles.


	48. 48 December 7

48.

The fifth day, he let me make it.

"You're a part of this, too, Nick! It's gonna be, like, tradition!"

I made it simple, with only a neat little _Merry Christmas"_ on the wing.


	49. 49 December 8

49.

Hanna was drawing an impressively complex green and red plaid on a sheet of paper while I made him breakfast. He had requested warm oatmeal to fend off the cold.

He took a big mouthful that I knew was too hot as I went to thread the small crane.


	50. 50 December 9

50.

I made the seventh while Hanna was sleeping away his day off. It was red, which I assumed would be seasonal enough for the redhead.

* * *

Check 1000 Paper Notes for something special for chapters 1 through 50.


	51. 51 December 10

51.

Hanna bundled up with my scarf as added protection against the cold. He'd been wearing heavy layers now for a while now, but he'd complained about the back of his neck getting cold, so I wrapped the bright blue and green article around his neck before he could say anything. I got a warming smile as he looks at the ending tassels in his hand.

He left twenty minutes later after I found a new crane on the tree, colored in the same pattern and colors of my scarf.


	52. 52 December 11

52.

We got back from the rink sometime around noon, Hanna's face still flushed and smiling from the cold air. His apartment does little to protect him from the chill outside, so he remains in all of his sweaters and hat as I make him a stove grilled cheese sandwich and hot tomato soup.

The day's crane for the tree was red and yellow – gold, as I was informed later – and had been inspired by the city's decorations.

* * *

Check out 1000 Paper Notes for a side story on this chapter.


	53. 53 December 12

53.

Hanna smiles as folds the green and red polka dots paper, squinting at his work because he hadn't bothered to put on his glasses yet.


	54. 54 December 13

54.

The weather bug on Hanna's laptop tells us that it's now cold enough for snow, and that there is a fifteen percent chance of it.

Hanna holds out a small white crane that he has given a Santa hat somehow. I hold out my scarf and gloves.

"We need to get me some of my own," he says looking at the floppy fingertips of the gloves that too big for his hands.


	55. 55 December 14

55.

Hanna was shivering, his wet hair plastered against his face was probably freezing, and even with two layers of sweaters, and flannel pajama pants under his jeans, his nose was still red and dripping.

The crane was white, for the snow that was beating against our window, Hanna said. I think his fingers were too cold to want to draw anything on the crane. Folding it was bad enough.

* * *

(Eventually, there will be a side story for this chapter on 1000 Paper Notes.)


	56. 56 December 15

56.

It was no longer snowing, but all of the sidewalks were still piled high with white left over from yesterday.

The crane was white with a green squiggle around his neck and little dots of red in clusters of three surrounded it. Hanna told me it was a wreath. I had my doubts.


	57. 57 December 16

57.

Hanna had been coughing and sneezing, but he said that everything was fine. I made him wear more layers, but he couldn't miss anymore work, so he went in sick after leaving a small green crane that blends in with the tree.


	58. 58 December 17

58.

I walked Hanna to work since he had a fever, but I can't stay with him all day. The walk back is cold and dark because of the late winter days.

When I get back to the apartment, I fold a plain white crane and hang it uselessly toward the back of the tree.


	59. 59 December 18

59.

Hanna was told not to come into work by his boss. He slept into the early afternoon, when I made him eat some soup. It was snowing again, and Hanna never left the three heavy comforters we owned.

His fever finally breaks around four pm, and when he wakes up around nine at normal temperature, I hand him a blank white crane to draw on.


	60. 60 December 19

60.

Hanna's cold was nothing more than a sore throat and hoarse voice, so he went back work.

But not before leaving a cheery new red and white checkered crane on the tree.


	61. 61 December 20

61.

Hanna was digging through some boxes that appeared to have come out of nowhere, since there wasn't anywhere in our apartment that wasn't already occupied.

Hanna makes no comments on where they came from, however. Instead, he pulls out an old boom-box that he forgot he owned, and a stack of CDs. I recognize a few of the artists from Hanna's computer, but the case that Hanna chooses is old and scratched, and looks like it'd seen a lot of wear and tear before ending up in Hanna's hands.

It fits in with everything else in the apartment, except Hanna.

"Christmas music, Chris!" Hanna informs me as he presses play. The CD skips, and the quality is terrible, but I still smile as Hanna dances around me.

After the first three carols, which Hanna knows every lyric to (but could use some help with the music), he settles down and sighs happily at the table and fold a crane that read _Chris Cringle_ is red sharpie.

**

* * *

**

Check out 1000 Paper Notes for a side story on this chapter.


	62. 62 December 21

62.

The Christmas cranes are scattered throughout the main room after I put the tree back together, and the blue and green one that matches my scarf has been stepped on. I unfold it carefully, and lay it out on a freshly cleaned table. It wasn't hard to find a couple of books heavy enough to flatten it out.

I make a replacement one for it for the time being, but its pattern is a sad copy of the original.


	63. 63 December 22

63.

The early setting sun coupled with the mall's seasonal long hours means Conrad's invited Hanna and me to Christmas shop with him.

I hid behind my scarf and gloves, but it was hardly enough. I heard the same "It's Christmas, not Halloween" twice while pushing through the mass of shoppers with Hanna and the vampire, but all in all, everyone was too focused on sales and wish lists to pay much attention to me.

Hanna could tell I was slightly frustrated with the crowds and deals and crazy, over-stressed mothers fighting over the sweater or phone or whatever it happened to be. He folded a crane that says _Sorry_ after yet another person pushed through our group.

I hate malls.


	64. 64 December 23

64.

Hanna is excited because he's got the next three days off. He's had the Christmas tree lights on since he first got up, and I made up for it by keeping the dangling bulb in the center of the room dark.

Breakfast is a festive, or so Hanna says, and consists of ham, eggs, bacon and cheese on dark toast.

"I haven't had this in _years_! Used to have it, like, every day for a month before Christmas."

"Why did you stop?"

"Oh …" Hanna says solemnly, before taking a huge, stalling bite. "Well, I dunno … I can't cook, so …"

I can tell it's not a topic to force out, so I don't respond any more than to fold a green and white striped crane.

* * *

(Eventually, there will be a side story for this chapter on 1000 Paper Notes.)


	65. 65 December 24

65.

Hanna seemed surprised that he woke up in his own bed.

"I mean, how did we even get home?" he asks, rubbing at the hangover I'm sure is killing him.

"We hitch-hiked."

"Ohhh." He idly picked up a paper and folded it twice before pausing. "Who would have thought that Conrad knows how to party? … How did he get home?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh well. We'll have to go and check on him later. I mean, Jeez, the guy can't even get _drunk_, so what was _that_? I doubt he can get into too much trouble, though. I mean, since he learned how to fly and all."

He was still talking as he grabbed the red Sharpie and started writing on the new crane. "And that scarf Toni got me for Christmas? Now I don't have to steal yours all the time! But I probably still will, just for old time's sake and all that. It's a comfortable scarf!"

He hands me the crane that reads _Christmas Eve!_

"Maybe a bit ostentatious, but it totally suits you! Somehow … I mean, that's really weird, since you wear it trying to blend in, but you probably get more stares because of it."

I wondered slightly why he wasn't facing a massive hangover.


	66. 66 December 25

66.

The crane was simple and white and read _Our First Christmas!_ in Hanna's block lettering.

I hung it on the tree while Hanna finished his pancakes, bacon, and sunny-side-up eggs I made him as a present.

I hadn't taken off the new fedora he got me since he handed it to me.

* * *

(Check out 1000 Paper Notes for a side story on this chapter.)


	67. 67 New Year

67.

At twelve o'clock, Hanna handed me a crane that read _Happy New Year_.

We could hear the fireworks crackling over downtown.

"It's gonna be an awesome year," Hanna assured me. I agreed completely.


	68. 68

68.

The snow never got old for Hanna. So we walked together the third night this week.

We decided to stop at a park for a second, the one with the pond that had frozen over. Hanna made a miniature snowman out of three snowballs.

While he did that, I found an old receipt in my pocket from the grocery store. You could read _BROC ... 4.67_ on the wing.


	69. 69

69.

_Click_.

The camera was probably as old as Hanna, but it still worked rather well. Since Hanna found it somewhere in his dresser, he'd already taken four pictures of me cooking, two of him posing around me, and one of the hanging cranes in the corner.

Hanna danced as he shook the Polaroid, trying to dry it out.

"This is a pretty good one, Lester," he said, showing it to me by leaning in front my cooking. I moved him away from the boiling soup and took the picture. It was my face in profile highlighted by his kitchen window.

"I agree." I said, handing him back the photo.

A few minutes later, Hanna _ooh'd_ with a good idea and immediately folded a white crane.

By the time Hanna's hot potato soup was ready, Hanna had ten new pictures of the crane pose in various positions. One of them was Hanna holding the crane as if it were perched on my head. Another was the crane physically perched on my head.

"How much does Polaroid film cost?" I asked.

Hanna stopped taking pictures for a while after that.


	70. 70 Kirt

70.

Hanna couldn't sleep, so he decided to join me on my visit to the library.

We went around midnight, when the staff knew me and my cover story. The librarian, to Hanna's surpise, sometimes invited me over for tea or to join her at church, and the twenty-something that worked part-time as their night custodian often invited me to play at a bar he knew, he had connections to the management and it paid well. Sometimes, I felt inclined to accept. But still, Mrs. Dreggor's church had yet to see my without my green makeup and Zac still hadn't seen my band play. I felt a little guilty that they never would.

Zac and Hanna, who played along as a groupie, talked about my band while I searched through the classics. I lost them somewhere between C. S. Lewis and Edgar Alan Poe. By the time I found them again, I apparently knew five new instruments other than guitar.

"You never said you played _bagpipe_!"

I looked directly at Hanna before saying, "I don't play it very often."

Luckily, Mrs. Dreggor decided Zac had gotten out of enough work, and Hanna was left with a parting, "Well, anyway, you should totally talk Kirt into playing at the _Grey Lady_. He keeps saying he's too busy."

Hanna was so humored by the idea of me in a band that for the rest of the stay at the library, that's all he could talk about. Until Mrs. Dreggor finally asked me to keep him quiet.

As I collected a couple more books, Hanna grabbed on of the slips from beside the catalog card box.

"You really should learn how to play the bagpipe or something. It'd give you something to do," Hanna said, handing me a small crane that read _Kirt_ in pencil.

I considered it.


	71. 71

71.

We were running. Very fast. Hanna had warned me that wereravens were dangerous. I hadn't doubted him. But in hind sight, he underestimated.

The giant bird was close behind us. Too close for me. Way too close for Hanna. He was trying to write some runes on his arm, but he kept messing up because of the fast pace. He needed some time.

I was still moving, but it's mainly momentum, as I turned around, sliding back on the balls of my feet, and planted the glowing hammer right on the bird's face. She was blindsided, but frantic as her talons landed in my left arm, the arm that was up to block. I felt the stitches break messily and new scars form before the whole limb goes numb. I raised the hammer again to strike – I wasn't sure at what, but at _something_ – when a burst of tell-tale green exploded in my (and the wereraven's) face.

"Charlie!" Hanna screamed as both the wereraven and I went down in a mess of burning feathers, before an unfamiliar unconsciousness overcame me.

When I woke up disoriented, Hanna was there, my arm was reattached, I was in Worth's office, and Hanna was there. He was yelling at me and sobbing and apologizing just a little too fast for my mind to catch up with. What my mind did catch up with was a small paper crane being crushed between me and Hanna as he hugged/screamed at/cried to me.


	72. 72 Lamont I

72.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Lamont, I was just wary of people who knew too much without being told.

But Hanna trusted him completely, even acted a little like his kid brother.

Besides, Lamont and I were never alone together. It was even rare for it to just be us and Hanna.

Lamont leaned back against Worth's desk. "I've heard you and Hanna are trying to make a thousand cranes."

I shifted uncomfortably and looked back at the examination room's door. "Yeah."

"Hanna's idea?"

When I looked back he was touching a piece of paper on Worth's desk, sliding it closer to him.

"Yeah."

Lamont didn't say anything else as he focused on the paper. His folds weren't as precise or fast as I'd come to expect from Hanna or myself, but a crane takes shape nonetheless.

"You know, I use to worry a little about Hanna. The company he kept and all that." Lamont laughed, "Hell, I worry about anyone who's keeping company with Luce."

He tossed the new crane to me and smiled.

"I don't so much anymore – worry, I mean."


	73. 73 Pirates

73.

It was snowing again and Hanna is watching a movie with pirates. From what I can remember when Hanna sat me down to explain, as he put it, the universe, it has Johnny Depp in it which automatically makes it great.

Hanna was just paid, and most of our bills had been paid for this month, so I take what was left over and go shopping for the next two weeks.

Hanna was drawing an eyepatch on a crane that already had a striped red and white shirt. He was getting pretty good at drawing on cranes.

"It's Captain Jack!" he said excitedly, waving it around for me to see.

I smile as I put the groceries down on the counter.

"Tomorrow, we'll have to watch a ninja movie."


	74. 74 V Ninjas

74.

Hanna didn't make it to the next day to watch a ninja movie. Although, _Naruto_ isn't quite what I was thinking when he said ninja.

"This show use to be really, _really_ popular a few years ago," he said over the opening song.

I must have missed it.

He puts a ninja mask on the new crane and names it Sasuke. "Even though he's _such_ a cliché."


	75. 75 Seventy five

75.

It took us a while to count them all after Hanna mentioned that we had no idea how many paper cranes there were. Hanna was surprised to see we had passed fifty already, regretting not counting off from the beginning.

Even so, seventy-five was an important enough number for Hanna. The crane was made out of the biggest paper we could find – and old manual for a VCR that Hanna no longer owned – that Hanna decorated with several different colors of marker until the teal and magenta ones had run out of ink. The end product was big, as large as my head, and had taken both of us to fold.

"We'll have to find bigger paper for the one-hundredth one," Hanna said, putting the paper monstrosity on top of the fridge with the help of a step ladder.


	76. 76 suggested by Sir Gawain of Camelot

Suggested by Sir Gawain of Camelot on the 1000 Paper Something forum.

* * *

76.

Because Conrad offered to pay, Hanna had half a cheeseburger shoved in his mouth. Veser was already done with his.

Hanna had asked for a a flimsy, cheep cardboard crown when he ordered, and had put it on my head. I took it off now, and stared at it for a few seconds.

Hanna met my eyes and he gulped down what was in his mouth. "I've never made a crane out of cardboard."

The hardest part was actually trying to get a square out of such an odd shape. Without scissors. Veser tried using his teeth, but we only ended up with a soggy, chewed up half of a crown. Conrad got another crown, refusing to put his hands on Veser's saliva, and with a few simple back and forth folds, handed Hanna a perfect square.

It took a lot of redefining creases and going back to the beginning, but by the time we were ready to leave, we had a crane.


	77. 77

77.

I went exploring through the apartment to pass the time while Hanna was at work. Hanna came home to me looking through all of his high school yearbooks. He stopped dead on in the doorway.

"Wh-where did you find ... those?"

I looked up. "You were cute as a kid," I not-answer, holding up the page.

Hanna simply stared at the fifteen year old with dark hair and braces and freckles and thick rim glasses like it was advance calculus. "Wh-what?"

I go back to looking at the signatures in the back of the book. There weren't a lot, but there was one every year that would take up a whole page in random jokes and doodles. "Who is Fredly?"

"Wha-what? Who? Oh, n-nobody!" He said, walking over, taking the book, and ripping the page out. He stumbled over nonsense about "a friend, he's no one, why do you ask?" as he crumpled up the page.

I stared at him and he slowed. "I'm sorry," I said, taking this page from him. It was roughly the right size, so I didn't have to damage any of the writing as I made it square. "I didn't think you'd mind me looking at them. I'll ask, next time."

I handed him back the page as a crane covered in half words and partial doodles.

Hanna sighed. "It's a complicated story. I'll tell you one day," he said, and took the crane.


	78. 78 Dear Hanna

78.

Hanna handed me the threaded crane, and I thumb-tacked it up on the ceiling.

"... I know it's a little after-the-fact, but ... do you wanna sign my yearbook?" Hanna asked as I got down.

I smiled and held out my hand for the book and a sharpie.

When I was done, Hanna grabbed at the book, but I tore the page out and started folding.

"When you're ready to tell me about high school, I'll be ready to let you read it," I explained to Hanna confused face. I had planned it so that the only two words he could read on the crane were "Dear Hanna".

* * *

Check out 1000 Paper Notes for a side story on this chapter.


	79. 79

79.

Hanna was extremely tired when he got home. I had dinner for him already done as he flopped into the chair at the table.

I was getting a plate down when I heard a loud _thunk_ from behind me, followed by a long sigh.

"Today was horrible ..." he says weakly.

I place his chicken and mashed potatoes next to him and grab a sheet of paper from his stack and offer it to him.

He looks at it and smiles for what is maybe the first time that day.


	80. 80 Valentine's Day I

80.

It caught me by surprise, and I think it caught Hanna off guard, too.

It was just lunch with friends, offered by Conrad, but everyone was there with colorful Valentine's Day Cards.

We got away with drawing on the napkins and tactfully blaming it on paychecks.

It didn't last long – Toni, Veser, and Lamont all had dinner plans to get ready for. And Conrad and Worth didn't say where they were going, but they probably had somewhere to be, too.

"We should make them into cranes. You know. So we don't lose them?"

So we folded Veser's "Scooby-Doo, I Love You!" card ...


	81. 81 Valentine's Day II

81.

... Conrad's hand drawn sketch of a red heart ...


	82. 82 Valentine's Day III

82.

... Toni's classy blue and white outline of two birds on a branch ...


	83. 83 Valentine's Day IV

83.

... and Lamont's store-bought card with Worth's scrawl across the printed words.


	84. 84 Nosferatu

84.

Hanna was laughing loudly and picking himself up while I tried to find my left thumb. It wasn't terribly important, but it would have been nice to keep.

"I'll be honest, Nosferatu, I wasn't _one-hundred_ percent sure that would work."

I could see it half covered in a pile of brick that came down towards the end of Hanna's plan, so I crawl over to it. "It worked?"

Hanna laughed louder that time. "We're still alive, right?"

I got to it and put it in my pocket. " I don't know about that," I said, smiling over at him.

After he's sown my thumb back on, I test it out by folding a new crane.


	85. 85 Tak

85.

It was a clear night with some left-over snow still clinging to the ground as I walked home.

I didn't notice I was being followed for a few blocks. Then something, at the stoplight at Farris and Green, rubbed loving against my shin. I looked down to catch eyes with the small grey cat purring up at me.

I think I should have hesitated more before bending down to pick it up. But no curses were sprung or demons appeared when I took it into my arms, so I felt somewhat safe.

The tag it had around its neck was cheap: a braided string, probably homemade, and a small tag with an address and the word _Tak_ on it.

The apartment building is middle class, but has a lobby with a nighttime receptionist that stares at my skin color while I talk to her. At least it only takes two tries at the explanation before she recognizes the cat I'm holding in my arms.

I kept the tag as a keepsake, and folded it to pass the time on my way back to my own apartment.


	86. 86 suggested by KERP

Suggested by K.E.R.P. on the 1000 Paper Somethings forum.

* * *

86.

Hanna had open the book that came with the (now used up) package of origami paper. So far he'd been able to make a frog, a giraffe, and a flower.

"I still think cranes are the coolest," he said, folding one as fast and he could.


	87. 87

87.

So I folded one as fast as I could.


	88. 88

88.

Hanna smiled mischievously at me. "Are we playing that again?" he asks slyly.

"Maybe."

So Hanna got the stopwatch from under the sink in the bathroom.

He went first, and 39.24 seconds later, a new crane was made.


	89. 89

89.

"Ready ...? Go!"

And 37.08 seconds later, I had won.


	90. 90 Al

90.

Hanna, who had apparently been counting this time, asked, "Do you think ninety is a bid enough number to do something special, Al?"

I thought about it for a moment. "If it were, wouldn't we have to do something special every ten cranes?"

"Hmm ... good point."

So instead of a number, the ninetieth crane read _Al_.


	91. 91

91.

Hanna had already gone to work when I got home from my walk. I had forgotten that it was a Wednesday.

I found a new crane in the fridge where the left over pancakes from Monday had been.


	92. 92 of Montreal

92.

Toni's band, which had a new drummer after an incident back in January and hadn't performed yet since, was opening at a club for a rather well-known band. Or, at least, Hanna owned all of their albums.

"You guys are opening for of Montreal?" Hanna asked gleefully. "That's so _amazing_! They aren't _huge_ or anything, but still! Big!"

It required a ticket, but Toni was able to get one for everyone. Hanna, at the _very_ least had fun, and the crowd responded well to the band.

The male lead singer coming out in a mini skirt reading a dragon, though, was a tad bit beyond me, though.

Hanna kept his ticket and folded it as best he could when we got home.


	93. 93

93.

It's above freezing for the first time in a long while. And I didn't need Hanna's computer to tell me that.

"Ugh ..." Hanna groans, staring out of the window at the cold down pour.

He stalls walking to work by folding a white crane that he gives a yellow raincoat with a highlighter.


	94. 94 The Lion and the Lamb I

94.

"That was _such_ a lion start of March."

I take Hanna's drenched jacket and give him a confused look. "What?"

"You know, that old superstition about the lion and the lamb?" He said, grabbing clothes while he spoke, "It's got a rhyme, I think, but I can't remember it. But anyway, it's all about how if the first day of March is a _lion_ – if Niagara Falls decides to relocate above your head ..." he gestures to the window, "then the last day of March will be a lamb. Like, all fluffy and shiny pretty. And vise versa."

As if to emphasize his story, he draws a red mane skillfully on the crane he folded.


	95. 95 soggy

95.

Hanna put the soggy crane on the dress as he squelshed in.

"Will it ever stop raining. Really?"


	96. 96

96.

The frisbee, Hanna's only frisbee of course, landed so far lodged in the tree that even Hanna gave up on it.

"Ugh." Then to emphasize, Hanna added, "Ugh."

I agreed. "So what now?"

Blades of grass and bits of dirt flew as Hanna grudgingly kicked the ground. "I dunno."

I glanced at Hanna, glaring up at the blotch of faded red in the leaves. All the bad weather had put him in a mood, and I think we were both hoping the first dry sunny day would help. It hadn't so far.

I reached into Hanna's pocket and found what I was looking for at the expense of a baffled Hanna. But the crane I folded out of the crumpled up brochure for roller-durby the young woman who had knocked Hanna over handed him, plus the ridiculousness of the day, made him laugh.


	97. 97 Anna Marie I

Another chapter inspired by Sir Gawain of Camelot on the 1000 Paper Somethings forum, but I bet this isn't what they were expecting.

* * *

97.

Hanna was staring at the hem of her dress instead of her eyes. But she was so flustered I don't think she noticed.

She trailed off in the so far short story that Hanna heard nothing of, twisting her hands nervously and staring at the wall behind Hanna and me.

"Miss ...?" I prompted, and her watery eyes focused on mine.

"My brother. He used to fold cranes. Made three wishes that way."

I glance back at the accumulation of cranes in the corner. Some of the most recent ones were sitting patiently on the chair below the rest, waiting for a break in our busy schedule.

"Used to?"

"That's ... Tha–" was all she got out before she broke down into sobs. Both Hanna and I caught her before she could fall to her knees.

We set her down at the table and she composed herself quickly. But as she finished telling us her problem, she grabbed a blank piece of paper. It almost seemed like she was telling her story to the folds, weaving her voice into the creases, she was so focused on the crane. But as soon as she finished the fold, he voice faltered for a beat, and I was almost certain she would cry again. In stead, she put the crane down and continued, staring Hanna directly in the eye. She didn't once look at her work.

We left immediately after she finished. Hanna didn't even worrying about his pay – he was blustering at the masquera running down the girls face, and I had no doubt that if she asked him to work for free, he gladly would have.


	98. 98

98.

The days seamed tense anymore. The case was closed, but it didn't _feel_ that way.

I tried to put it behind us by wondering aloud to Hanna how many cranes we had now. It worked amazingly well to bring the redhead out of his funk.

He thought he knew, but he counted, with my help, just to make sure. Then folded another ...


	99. 99

99.

... two, giddy the whole way through.

"Oh my god, Tristan, this is _monumental_! Our hundredth's crane! We're going to have find some of those ginormous rolls that high school always have for free in the library? The ones that have to be a mile and a half wide? Oh, man, where are we going to _put_ it?"

In the end, we both decided that Conrad would know where to find gigantic sheets of paper. After one phone call, we were right.

Hanna was making preparations for the occasion late into midnight. I left him gleefully scribbling down ideas and doodles into a notebook when I left for the library.


	100. 100

100.

My footsteps were echoing, and I took my time heading back. I don't remember why, but I tried a different way home, weaving through streets.

My footsteps multiplied, and I turned in time to see a small white crane flutter down from the rooftop and a silhouetted figure disappearing.

The crane read _Congrutulations on 100._

_

* * *

_

There will eventually be something special for chapters 51-100 on 1000 Paper cranes._  
_


	101. 101

101.

"This is gayer than Confag."

We ignored Worth, who was offering immoral support from the side of the alley instead of help. Even Conrad brushed off the comment with little more than an eye roll. I think it was because he already had altercations with the doctor thrice before.

Toni let a small squeal of delight. "It looks so good, guys! You're almost done!"

And we were really close. I was glad. The large left wing had proven frustrating. Especially since it was covered in dirt/mud/scum from the alley floor. Hanna pulled on the other wing while held the thing in place, squatting down slightly to accommodate the height different. I knew it was subtle because I didn't get a glare from below his glasses.

"Now just the head." Hanna said with an air of satisfaction laced with excitement. Lamont was happy to reach up and finish the monstrous crane, despite Veser's calls of, "I'll do it! I got this!"

Ignoring a pouting selkie, Hanna pulled out the Polaroid and snapped a picture of everyone holding the three feet paper crane, made out of lots of tape and large paper rolls provided by Conrad. He even managed to get Worth scowling in the corner.

"Congratulations on 100, you guys! Took you long enough," Toni says good-heartedly with a big hug around both of our necks.

As Hanna and the rest of the group started planning the impossible—getting the impossibly large crane into our apartment ("No, really, I know some spells to float it through the window! I just don't know how well the tape would do. Only works for living or once living things.")—I felt for its small counterpart in my pocket, left there from last night.

_Congratulations on 100._

It just hadn't felt right to tell Hanna.


	102. 102 Anne-Marie II

102.

Three sharp, urgent bangs on our apartment door startled me from my reading and Hanna from his sleep. I took a moment to look at him, still exhausted and mostly asleep, but dragged into awareness. When no one addresses the banging after a few seconds, it returns twice loud and frantic.

I'm not quite sure who I expected to be at our door two hours before the sun rose, but I have to admit, Miss Anne-Marie, in only a nightgown and a robe, barefoot, and holding out a paper crane, was quite far from the top of the list.

* * *

Check 1000 Paper Notes for a side-story (or a few) for this chapter.


End file.
